


Probable Cause

by Emospritelet



Series: Drinking To Forget [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Also Weaver swears a lot, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Handcuffs, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Outdoor Sex, Restraints, Shameless Smut, These two are horndogs honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 02:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12547096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emospritelet/pseuds/Emospritelet
Summary: It's Halloween, and Lacey decides that she's going to dress up as a sexy police officer to see if she can seduce her favourite detective.  Banter and smut ensue.





	Probable Cause

Lacey French reflected that it was always weird waking up in a strange bed.  The bed position, temperature and lighting might differ from place to place, but assuming she had company, some things never changed.  Heavy arms around her, the scent of sex and musk in the sheets, the press of slick, heated skin against her back, and morning wood digging into her rear.  She felt her mouth curve upwards in a slow grin.  The night had been long and exciting, and it had been some time in the small hours that they had decided sleep was necessary.  Weaver had seemed to know just what to do to drive her insane.  She wondered if he had neighbours, and if they had heard her cries.

Her body was aching pleasantly, and she stretched, pointing her toes.  He shifted in his sleep, rolling onto his back with a sigh, and she missed his warmth.  It was tempting to turn around and drape herself over him, but she was aware that she probably stank of whisky and morning breath.  Besides, she really had to pee.

She slipped from the bed, snatching up the white shirt he had worn the night before and buttoning it around herself before padding barefoot to the bathroom.  The reflection in the mirror above the sink made her sigh as she washed her hands.  Her hair was a tangled mess, curls winding around one another and sticking to the side of her neck.  Smudges of mascara made her look as though she had been punched, and so she washed her face with the soap he had, wiping away sticky black residue.  Her skin felt tight, and she sighed again.  A quick look through the little cupboard on the wall revealed shaving foam, spare razor blades and toothpaste, but nothing even resembling moisturiser, not that that surprised her.  Perhaps he had some good olive oil.  That would do, in a pinch.

A noise from the direction of the kitchen made her look around, and she shut the cupboard door, straightening the shirt around herself.  Perhaps he was up and making coffee.  She wouldn’t say no.  It was light outside, so she should probably get back to her place to change before work.  Coffee would definitely help.

She walked down the short corridor to the kitchen area, and stopped dead as she saw that someone was already in there.  A girl who looked to be in her late teens sat swinging back in one of the chairs, feet in sturdy boots up on the table and a bowl of cereal in her hands.  She had blonde curls, and was wearing a little skirt and thick tights, and a somewhat battered old jacket.  She grinned at Lacey.

“Hi,” she said brightly.  “You must be Lacey.  I’m Alice.”

“Um…”  Lacey chewed her lip, shifting from foot to foot.  “Hey?”

Alice took a mouthful of cereal, chewing as she looked her up and down.  She swallowed, gesturing with her spoon.

“There’s coffee in the pot,” she said.  “You want some?”

Lacey was painfully aware that she was standing there in nothing but Weaver’s shirt, her hair a mess, looking as though she had been well and truly fucked into oblivion and probably with hickies on her neck.  She couldn’t think of anything else to do, so she went to the table and poured herself a cup of coffee.  There were three mugs there, as though someone had known that there would be three people in the house, and she wondered how long the girl had been there.   _Oh my God, is she his daughter?  Did we come back here and have rough, screaming sex when his daughter was in the house?  Who fucking_ does _that?  No, wait, he said he had no family.  Who the hell is she?_

“There’s toast if you want it,” said Alice, and Lacey almost fumbled the coffee mug in her consternation.

“Um - coffee’ll do,” she said.  “I need to get out of here, anyway.”

“Uh-huh.”

Alice took another mouthful, chewing, her eyes gleaming curiously, and Lacey sank into the chair opposite, cradling the mug in her hands like a talisman.  Alice grinned widely as she took a sip.

“So, did you shag the old man to death, or bang him back to life?” she asked, and Lacey almost choked on the coffee.

 _“Shit!”_ she swore, and Alice giggled.  Lacey glared at her, and she waved a hand.

“Oh, don’t worry.  I didn’t hear anything you two got up to.  I just got here myself.”

“Are you - are you his daughter or something?” asked Lacey, praying she wasn’t.  Alice snorted.

“Yeah, he wishes!” she said.  “I’m just the hired help.  I eat his food and drink his coffee and he pays me for information.”

“Oh.”  Lacey took another sip of coffee.  “Do you - uh - live here?”

Alice shook her head, blonde curls swinging.

“Got my own place.  Well, a few of us, actually.  A warehouse near the cannery.”

“Oh, right.”  Lacey nodded.  “Yeah, I left home when I was fifteen, so I know how that goes.  Stayed in some similar places myself before I could get regular work.”

“Mr Cluck’s, right?” said Alice, and shrugged as Lacey stared.  “I told you, I deal in information.  Weaver doesn’t screw around, so I got curious when I saw you two in the alley.”

“You _saw_ that?”  Lacey put her hands over her face with a groan, and Alice chuckled.

“Not the actual screwing, I left before you guys could get too serious,” she said.  “I saw enough, though.  And now you’re here.  It’s interesting.”

She had lifted her chin, pursing her lips with an appraising look, and Lacey buried her nose in the coffee.  The sound of the bedroom door closing was a welcome distraction, and she turned her head to see Weaver approaching in jeans and a white undershirt, buckling his belt.

“Morning, loser,” said Alice cheerfully.

Weaver stomped to the kitchen counter, slapping her boots with a hand to knock her feet off the table.  The chair swung forward and she squeaked as the milk sloshed in her cereal bowl.

“Feet off the fucking table,” he growled, and she stuck her tongue out at his back as he looked in the fridge.

“Oh, yeah, you’re out of milk,” she offered, and he turned to give her a flat look.  She spooned cereal into her mouth, milk dripping from her chin.

“Well, at least you left me some bloody coffee, I suppose,” he said, and took a seat next to Alice and across from Lacey.  His eyes flicked up to meet hers.  “You okay?”

“Fine,” she said, wondering what the hell was going on, and he nodded, reaching for the coffee.  Alice took another mouthful of cereal, crunching as she chewed.

“Well, this is cute,” she said.  “Nice little domestic scene.  Lots of caffeine to make up for the lack of sleep.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” snapped Weaver, and she grinned.

“Nope.”

“Well, I do,” said Lacey, taking a slurp of coffee.  “I should get going, my shift starts soon.”

“You can stay for breakfast, assuming Alice hasn’t eaten everything in the house,” he said, and Lacey shook her head.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” she said.  “Don’t want to turn up to work looking like I just fell out of someone else’s bed, right?  There are already enough rumours scrawled on the restroom walls.”

She pushed back from the table, picking up her coffee and walking to the bedroom, and she could hear Weaver and Alice’s conversation start up again behind her.

“What the hell did you turn up so early for?”

“You said you’d pay me today!  I have to buy food, or have you forgotten?”

“I fail to see why, when all you fucking do is eat mine!”

“I have other mouths to feed!”

The conversation faded to a murmur as Lacey closed the bedroom door.  She started hunting for her clothes, stripping off his shirt and pulling on underwear and her little dress.  She _definitely_ couldn’t turn up to work in that, but she hadn’t brought a change of things in her purse, of course.  The walk of shame it was, then.  Weaver entered just as she was pulling on her coat, and ran a hand through his hair, his mouth flattening.  He looked irritated.

“You okay?” he asked again, and she nodded.

“Yeah, but I’m going.  Gotta be there in half an hour, and I can’t turn up in this.”  She gestured at the dress, and he grinned.

“Well, I appreciate the view, even if your boss doesn’t.”

“Hmm.”  She was amused, and straightened her jacket.  “You working on Halloween?”

“I am,” he said, with a grimace.  “Prank calls, panic over kids dressed as clowns and minor arson attacks await.”

“There’s always the chocolate,” she said, and he grunted.

“I’ll take a whisky, thanks,” he said.  “Not really one for sweet things.”

Lacey pursed her lips.

“Then I guess I’ll see you around,” she said, and kissed him briefly before winking at him and sauntering out.

“See ya!” called Alice, with a wave, and Lacey returned her grin, reaching for the handle of the front door.

* * *

She made it to work with minutes to spare, and Jacinda rolled her eyes with a grin as Lacey pulled on an apron and tied it off.

“Cutting it fine,” she said.  “You have a heavy night last night, or something?”

“Didn’t sleep too well, that’s for sure,” said Lacey, brushing stray hairs out of her eyes.

“So who’s the lucky guy?”

Jacinda was grinning at her, eyes sparkling, and Lacey sighed.

“No one,” she said.  “Well, I mean, obviously there was _someone_ , but it’s nothing serious.”

“Doesn’t have to be serious to be fun.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.”  She took a tray of chicken from the fridge, ready to go into the fryers.  “Fun was most definitely had.  I’m kinda sore in the best way, you know what I mean?”

“Pretty sure I’ve forgotten,” said Jacinda dryly.  “Last night Lucy and I made papier mache masks for a Halloween thing at her school, and I was asleep by ten.”

“You gonna take her trick-or-treating?”

Jacinda broke into a warm smile.

“Oh, she wouldn’t let me go with her,” she said.  “But she’s going with a bunch of the kids from school.  She’s growing up so fast.”

“So come for a drink,” said Lacey.  “Just one.  You can meet up with her when they’ve done their rounds.”

“I don’t know…” Jacinda looked uncertain.  “My stepmother uses any excuse to say I’m a bad mother, and if she catches me drinking…”

“It doesn’t even have to be alcohol,” persisted Lacey.  “You work your ass off, and you deserve a little you-time, right?”

Jacinda gave her an amused look, her eyes sparkling.

“Are we dressing up?” she asked, and Lacey grinned.

“Oh, hell yes!” she said.  “Got my costume all picked out!”

* * *

Halloween came around quickly, and Lacey worked the early shift, promising to meet Jacinda at Roni’s at six.  After she had taken a long shower, shampooing twice to get the smell of Mr Cluck’s out of her hair, she waxed her legs and smeared lotion all over herself.  It was cocoa butter, and she thought it made her smell good enough to eat.  With any luck she would come across a certain detective.  If she had even more luck, he’d be hungry.

She did her make-up, seated in front of the mirror in her underwear.  It was black today, panties and a plunge bra in a spiderweb pattern.  She pulled on lace-top stockings and her highest shoes, little black lace-up ankle boots with spike heels.  Her hair was tied up in a knot, and she put silver hoops in her ears, grinning at herself with a twist of her red lips.

“Go get him, girl!” she whispered.

She turned to her outfit, laid out on the bed, and her grin widened.  It was small, consisting of a pair of black booty shorts and a very tight, short sleeved shirt that clung to every curve.  A police badge was over the left breast, the neckline plunging low, and Lacey picked up the shirt and pulled it on, fastening the silver buttons with flicks of her fingers and tugging the epaulettes straight.  The shorts came with a wide belt and silver buckle, and she cinched it tight.  Last was the peaked hat, a cheap imitation of those worn by the local police department.  She grinned at her reflection in the mirror, hooking the silver-painted plastic handcuffs to her belt.  Tonight would be a good night, she could feel it.

* * *

She hurried down to Roni’s as fast as her ridiculous heels would carry her, shivering at the chill wind trying to get through her coat.  She could smell snow in the air, the cold burning her throat as she breathed, and it was a relief to push open the door to Roni’s and let the humid heat of the bar envelop her.

Jacinda was sitting at the bar, wearing a big-skirted blue princess dress and a crystal tiara on her dark curls.  She held up a wand with a star on the top, circling it in the air before flicking it, as though she was casting a spell, and Lacey grinned.

“A fairy, huh?” she asked.  “God, Lucy’ll love it.”

“She wanted me to be Cinderella,” said Jacinda, laying the wand on the bar.  “This was the closest I could get.”

“Glass slippers not gonna cut it out there tonight,” said Lacey, shrugging off her coat and sliding onto the stool next to her.  “I guess we’ll have to find you a handsome prince to make up for it.”

“I don’t have time for princes,” said Jacinda, and took a sip of her Coke.  “Maybe we should find you one, instead.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have time for handsome,” said Lacey carelessly.

She gestured at Roni, who was dressed like some sort of evil queen in a tight sparkly dress with a high wing collar that showed off some impressive cleavage.

“Can I get a martini?” she asked.  “Like, dry as the bloody Sahara.  You want one?”

She turned to Jacinda, who sighed.

“Go on, then.”

“Make it two.”

“Coming right up,” said Roni, and turned away, hips swinging.

“What time do you have to pick up Lucy?” asked Lacey, and Jacinda smiled.

“Seven,” she said.  “So I’m afraid it really can only be one drink.  Maybe Ivy wouldn’t mind sitting one night, though.  We could go out, let our hair down a little.”

“Oh, I plan on letting my hair down tonight, believe me.”

Jacinda’s eyes were focused on something over her shoulder, and Lacey waved a hand in front of her face, making her start.

“Earth to Jacinda,” she said.  “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

Jacinda buried her face in her glass of Coke, and Lacey noticed that there was a blush on her cheeks.  She looked over her shoulder, where a tall young man with dark hair was walking towards them, dressed in what looked like a velvet doublet and faux leather pants.  He was good-looking, with dark hair and one of those jawlines you could cut yourself on.  Too tall, though.  And too - wholesome.  He looked as though he shopped at the farmer’s market and helped out at food drives.  He smiled at Jacinda, his eyes warm and dark and weirdly familiar.

“Hey,” he said.  “I wondered whether I might see you in here again.  How’s Lucy?”

“Precocious as ever,” said Jacinda, with a grin.  “She’s out trick-or-treating.”

“Oh, right, the costume,” he said, gesturing at her dress.  “For a minute there I thought I’d stepped into a fairytale.”

Lacey snorted, and the man seemed to see her for the first time.

“Oh, sorry!”  Jacinda blushed harder.  “Henry, this is my friend Lacey French.  Lacey, this is Henry Mills.”

“Pleasure,” said Lacey, nodding to the man, and he smiled at her before turning his gaze back to Jacinda.

“The two of you definitely aren’t going for a costume theme here, are you?” he said, glancing between them.

“I’m just hoping to get lucky later,” said Lacey, in an offhand tone, and Jacinda giggled at the look on Henry’s face.

“Lucy wanted me to be Cinderella,” she said.  “This was the best I could do.”

“Well, you look beautiful,” he said.  “I’m sure if you wanted to gatecrash a ball, no one would care.”

“I see you have your own costume,” she said, looking him over, and Henry plucked at the velvet collar of his doublet.

“What, this?”  He grinned.  “No, this is - well, this is just casual daywear.  I have like six of them.”

Jacinda giggled again, and Lacey rolled her eyes in amusement.  Henry was still looking at her, still smiling, and he seemed to give himself a shake and step back.

“Well, I’ll leave you ladies to it,” he said.  “Say hi to Lucy for me.”

“I will,” she said, and he smiled again and backed away, sinking into the shadowed corners of the bar.

Lacey thanked Roni as she slid two martinis across the bar, and picked up the olive on its cocktail stick, putting it in her mouth and chewing.  Salty juices trickled down her throat, and she swallowed, grinning at Jacinda.

“Wow,” she said.  “You’ve got it bad, girl.  Both of you.”

“Oh, please, I barely know him,” said Jacinda, ducking her head and still blushing.

“Honey, if that was what you two are like when you barely know each other, I’m gonna take a punt and say you’ll be married within a year,” said Lacey with a sniff.  “He couldn’t take his eyes off you, for God’s sake!”

Jacinda smiled, her expression a little dreamy.

“He is nice,” she admitted.  “More than nice, actually.”

“So ask him out.”

“No one wants to take on a single mom with a kid,” she said, and Lacey sniffed.

“Take you _on_?  You’re not a bloody liability!  Any guy would be lucky to have you and Lucy.”

“It’s not just that,” said Jacinda, reaching for her drink.  “Lucy told me that he lost his family.  A wife and daughter.  That’s the sort of pain that’s hard to break through, and I don’t know if I want to try.”

“Looks to me like he’s ready to move on,” said Lacey, and sighed.  “Okay, I’m not gonna push it.  Just don’t be surprised if he asks you out, is all.”

“Yeah, well, enough about me.”  Jacinda took a slurp of her drink.  “Who exactly are you hoping to get lucky with tonight?”

Her eyes gleamed, and it was Lacey’s turn to blush.

“What makes you think I have a target?”

“That look on your face.”

She was grinning now, and Lacey wrinkled her nose.

“It’s nothing serious,” she said.  “Not sure it ever could be.  We hung out a couple of times, that’s all.”

“By hung out, you mean…”

“He banged me until I thought I saw the face of God, okay?”

Jacinda choked on her drink.

“Oh my God!” she said, coughing and giggling by turn.  “So, who is this guy?”

Lacey sat back, her mouth twisting a little.

“Not sure,” she said.  “I mean, I know his name, and what he does, but there’s something else about him.  Like - like there’s a part of him he doesn’t want to show, that’s hidden.”  She wrinkled her nose.  “I don’t know, I’m not describing it well.”

“Sounds a little dangerous.”

“Yeah, he is.”  Lacey chewed her lip.  “Not to me, but - yeah.  He’s dangerous.”

“Lacey, I really don’t think—”

“Oh, it’s cool, he’s a cop,” said Lacey carelessly.  “And like I said, we only hooked up twice.  Not sure he wants to see me again.”

“A _cop_?”  Jacinda raised her eyebrows.  “Wouldn’t have thought that was your type.”

“No one was more surprised than me, believe me.”  She took another drink, draining the glass.  “Want another?”

Jacinda looked as though she was wavering, and Lacey nudged her.

“You have at least half an hour!  Come on, one more!”

She took another drink, and grinned wickedly.

“Okay then, but you have to tell me more about Officer Orgasm.”

“Actually, he’s a detective,” said Lacey primly.  “And if you’re looking for some alliteration there I ain’t gonna help you.”

Jacinda giggled, and after a moment Lacey joined in.

“Okay, another round,” she said, and raised a hand to get Roni’s attention.  “We have half an hour for you to get something really inappropriate and embarrassing out of me, and I’m thinking another martini would make that easier.”

“In that case, this round’s on me.”

* * *

Weaver’s night was starting to suck.

The police officers dealt with the minor problems: kids taking their trick-or-treating a little too far and throwing eggs at the houses of those who wouldn’t answer the door to them, teenagers causing a nuisance of themselves after too much illicit alcohol.  He didn’t concern himself with such things, thankfully.  There had been the odd nasty incident, though, and he had been called out several times, once to a multiple shooting thought to be related to George King.  It had been a long day, and he was glad he wasn’t working the night shift.  His time was currently being wasted by a lowlife drug dealer that Alice had led him to, a flamboyant little shit who called himself The Mad Hatter.  A police raid on the guy’s fetid little den had initially gone well, and they had made four arrests of his self-styled Tea Party Gang.

However, that was where things had taken a turn for the worse.  One of the officers had been too eager, bursting open a suspicious-looking box after Weaver had shouted at him to wait for backup from the bomb squad.  There had been a minor explosion and a foul-smelling fog, and he had staggered from the room, choking, his eyes watering.  Two of the officers were still out cold from the effects of whatever the hell the fog had been.

The Hatter himself had managed to escape in the confusion, and Weaver was still furious with the officers who had let him get away.  It had meant he had had to step in himself to help detain the other suspects while two of them gave chase, and the entire operation had put him in a foul mood.  Some other sucker could take over when he got back to the station; he’d done twelve hours already and he was damned if he’d be doing any more.  The man he was in the process of arresting had other ideas, of course, struggling free from the officer holding him and grabbing his baton.  He swung it, hitting the officer in the face and making him stagger back with a cut to his eye.  Weaver ducked calmly as the baton swung around again, then stepped behind the man and grasped his arm, twisting it up his back and grabbing a handful of his hair, slamming his head down on the hood of the patrol car.  The baton clattered to the ground.

“Resisting arrest,” he said through his teeth.  “Will only bring you pain, believe me.”

“Fucking asshole!” spat the man, and Weaver twisted his arm, making him roar.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”  He twisted again, hearing a dull crack.  “Was that ‘yes, Detective, I’ll go quietly’?  I feel sure that’s what you meant to say.”

“You broke my fucking arm, you psycho!” bellowed the man, and his words cut off with a howl as Weaver twisted the arm more.

“No, I’ve just dislocated your shoulder,” he said.  “Has to fucking hurt, though, I’d guess.”

“Weaver.”  One of the officers had spoken up, sounding uneasy.  “I think you made your point.”

Weaver scowled over his shoulder, and then pushed up, still holding the man’s head against the hood of the car.

“Cuff this idiot, then,” he growled.  “Of course if either of you had done your bloody jobs in the first place, I wouldn’t have had to work up a fucking sweat.”

The officers stepped forward hastily, and he straightened his jacket, still scowling.

“Take him down to the station,” he said.  “Whoever takes the next shift can deal with him, I’m done for the night.”

“The Chief won’t like that,” said one of the officers uncomfortably.

“Oh, and you’re gonna fucking tell him, are you?”

He stepped forward, glaring, and the officers shared a nervous look, shuffling back a little.

“Like you say,” one of them offered.  “We’ll take him down.  I’m guessing you’ve had a long day.”

“Twelve hours of shit,” he said, spitting the words.  “I need a bloody drink, and I very much doubt either of you wants to stand in my way, correct?”

He didn’t wait for a reply, but stalked off down the alley, his fists opening and closing, adrenaline making his skin tingle.  Water dripped from a broken pipe, and he glared from side to side as he stepped over a sodden cardboard box filled with nondescript mounds of fabric.  He turned out onto the main street, glancing around, and headed left towards his own neighbourhood, and Roni’s bar.

* * *

Jacinda had finished her second drink, and Lacey slipped off her stool to hug her as she got up to go.

“Say hi to Lucy for me,” she said.  “Tell her to eat all the candy she can stuff in her mouth, okay?”

“Oh, she won’t need reminding of that,” said Jacinda dryly.  “You in work tomorrow?”

“Late shift, thank God,” grumbled Lacey.  “You’re off, right?”

“Right.”  Jacinda grinned.  “See you Thursday?”

“You, me, Louis the Creep, and a bunch of assorted chicken parts,” said Lacey, raising her glass in mock celebration.  “It’s a date.”

Jacinda picked up her coat, pulling it on over the puff-sleeved fairy dress, and Lacey watched her go, brown curls bouncing around her shoulders.

“Nice to see her get out of the house for once,” remarked Roni, leaning on the bar.  “Did I detect some serious flirting with that Mills guy?”

“Not according to her,” said Lacey.  “But yeah, not exactly subtle, were they?”

Roni grinned.

“Well, I hope they can get over themselves and be disgustingly happy together,” she said.  “I always like to see happy endings start in my bar.”

“How about giving me a happy beginning, instead?” suggested Lacey.  “With almost no vermouth.”

Roni shot her a flat, if amused look, turning to make up another martini.

“You wearing that costume because of who you’re looking to meet in here?” she asked.

“Well, I didn’t join the police force, if that’s what you mean.”

Roni speared an olive on a cocktail stick and pushed her drink across the bar.

“Be careful, dear,” she said.  “Weaver’s not the kind of guy you take home to meet your parents.”

“Actually, he’s _exactly_ the kind of guy I’d take home,” said Lacey.  “Would probably make my dad think twice about hitting me, for one thing.”

Roni winced.

“Look, I’m sure he seems very exciting and - experienced - to you, but there’s darkness in him.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”  Lacey took a sip of her drink.  “Must be the reason I want to bang him blind.  Always did have terrible taste.”

“I’m only trying to help.”

“Yeah, I know,” sighed Lacey.  “We only had two dates, if you can call hours of hot sex a date.  It’s not like he’s fucking proposed or anything.”

Roni looked over her shoulder, eyes narrowing.

“Just be careful, that’s all,” she said quietly, and raised her chin.  “What can I get you, Detective?  The usual?”

Lacey swivelled on her toes, a wide grin spreading across her face as she watched Weaver’s eyes bulge a little at the sight of her.  He looked angry, sparks almost leaping from his skin and flashing in his eyes, but she noticed the rage fade a little as he looked at her.  She put a hand on her waist, letting her hip swing outwards and watching his eyes flick over her.  He licked his lips.

“Whisky, if you please, Roni.”

“You got it.”  Roni turned away, and Lacey winked at him.

“Hey, Detective,” she said.  “Want to solve the mystery of what underwear I’m wearing this evening?”

His lips twitched at that, and her grin widened.

“My, uh—”  Weaver waved a finger up and down her frame.  “My officers don’t dress like that, I have to say.  Something tells me this uniform isn’t regulation.”

“Your loss, I guess,” she said, with a shrug.

“You wouldn’t say that if you saw some of my officers.”

“Anyway, this is a convincing outfit,” she said, as though she believed it.  “Look, it even comes with these.”

She reached behind her and unhooked the cuffs, dangling them from one finger in front of him.  Weaver’s eyes darkened.

“Oh, you want to play that game?” he asked quietly, and reached for his own.  His finger hooked through the rings of steel with a clink of metal, the light gleaming from them, and she wet her lips with her tongue.

“No kinks in the bar!” snapped Roni, glaring at them as she put down his whisky, and Weaver smirked, reaching back to put the cuffs away as he slid onto the bar stool and picked up his drink.

“You been here long?” he asked.

“Came for a drink or two with Jacinda,” she said.  “She had to leave to pick up her kid, so…”  She shrugged, taking a drink, and put her head to the side.  “How was your day?”

“Shit,” he said curtly.  “This city is full of scum, and I work with incompetents.”

He took a swig of his whisky, and Lacey sensed that he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Yeah, I hear you.”

She took a sip of her martini, and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye before taking another drink, a bigger one, draining the glass.  The tip of his tongue swept across his lower lip to catch a stray drop, and she felt a tug in her abdomen as she remembered how it felt between her legs, in her mouth.

“Not on the whisky tonight?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“I vary my drinks to suit my company,” she said.  “I’ll probably switch to whisky after this.”

“Then let me get you one.  Roni!”

He held up his empty glass, and two fingers, and Roni nodded from the other end of the bar.

“You should drink both of those yourself,” said Lacey.  “I’ve had two martinis, you need to catch up.”

“If you insist.”

Roni slid two glasses of whisky across the bar, and he tipped one of them into the other, throwing it back and grimacing before banging it back on the bar and nodding to Roni.

“Another.”

“Wow,” remarked Lacey.  “Was your day _that bad_?”

He ran a hand through his hair, silvery strands glinting in the light, his mouth flattening.

“Sometimes it feels as though I’m in fucking purgatory,” he said, and she pursed her lips, lifting one shoulder and letting it fall.

“Better than hell, I guess.”

“Marginally.”  He picked up the glass Roni gave him.  “Still feels like a curse, though.”

He took a swallow of whisky, his mouth twisting, and she inclined her head.

“Gotta take your pleasure where you can, then.”

“That’s one outlook, I suppose.”

“Only one that makes sense.”

Weaver looked at her then, dark eyes gleaming with aggrieved amusement.

“Is telling yourself that how you get through shifts at that chicken place?”

“Oh no, that’s _definitely_ the booze.”

He grinned, eyebrows twitching.

“There are other pleasures.”

“I remember.”

She took a slow sip of her drink, watching him over the top of her glass, and he shifted in his seat, turning towards her, his knees parting a little wider.  Her eyes flicked to his crotch before she could help herself, and when she looked up his grin had become toothy.  Lacey put down her drink.

“You gonna kiss me, or do I have to beg?”

His eyes darkened.

“Oh, I don’t think I’d make you beg.”

“Good, because that’s not something I do.”

Weaver set down his glass, crooking a long finger.

“Come here, then.”

She bit her lip, slipping from her stool, and he cupped her cheek with one hand and slid the other around her waist, tugging her in between his legs.  His nose brushed hers as he bent to kiss her, his tongue fiery from the whisky.  Lacey moaned at the brush of his fingertips on the nape of her neck, pressing her body against his as they kissed.  Her hands clutched at his jacket, the leather squeaking beneath her nails, and he deepened the kiss, groaning a little, his mouth hard and hungry and hurting.

Weaver pulled back, breathing hard, his fingers twisted in the stray strands of her hair and the sweet taste of her on his tongue, and Lacey licked her lips, her eyes wide and dark, her breath cool on his mouth.

“Let me take you to bed,” he breathed, and her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

“Your place?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

He kissed her again, and her mouth was hot and sweet, and he could feel himself harden as he remembered how she tasted when he licked her to a screaming, shaking climax.  His hand slid up her waist, his thumb brushing over the curve of her breast and pulling a moan from her, and he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers as he caught his breath.

“Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

The night air was cold, and Lacey clung to his arm, pressing herself against his side as they walked.  He glanced at her, noting the way she was chewing her lip, as though she was nervous.

“It’s not much further, remember?” he said.  “You okay?”

“Fine.”  Lacey glanced up at him through thick lashes, heavy with mascara.  “Will - will Alice be there?”

Weaver clicked his tongue.

“No, she’ll be up on the city roofs somewhere, using her eyes and ears to find out anything of value that she can,” he said.  “She doesn’t live with me.  She treats the place like a bloody hotel, but she only stays over if she’s got nowhere else.”

“You seem fond of each other,” she said.

“She’s a mouthy, insubordinate pain in my arse,” he said, and Lacey shot him an amused look, as though she could see right through him.  It was a little unnerving.

He turned into the alley that cut between two streets, pulling her with him, and Lacey giggled as she stumbled on something.

“God, these heels are a bloody nightmare!”

He caught her around the waist with an arm, tugging her close as he turned to face her, and she clutched at his chest with painted fingernails, her eyes sparkling at him.  Streetlights shone on the smooth curves of her cheeks, and her lips were soft and moist and inviting.  Her smile grew knowing, wicked, and she raised her chin a little.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, and he crushed his mouth to hers, his tongue pushing inside, a moan vibrating through her as his hands cupped her rear and squeezed.  The hands travelled up, into the hollow of her waist and over the curves of her breasts, and Lacey moaned again, pushing into his hands.

He pulled back, breathing hard, and grabbed her arms, spinning her around and pushing her against the wall.  Lacey let out a squeak of surprise as her cheek pressed against the cold stone, then giggled as he pushed up against her back, his hands running over her.

“Am I under arrest, Detective?” she asked, amused.  “You gonna search me?”

He sank his teeth into the nape of her neck, tongue licking over her skin, and she moaned as he trailed his lips up to her ear.

“Well, you’ve been acting very suspiciously,” he breathed, feeling her shiver at his touch.  “I believe I have probable cause.”

“I’m dressed as a police officer, remember?” she said coyly.  “At this point I think it’s safe to say you’re abusing your authority.”

“File a fucking complaint, then,” he rasped, and she giggled again.

The giggle turned to a moan as he slid his hand down inside her shorts, fingers pushing beneath her underwear and into the hot flesh between her legs.  He stroked her, releasing a rush of slippery fluid, and Lacey gasped at his touch.

“God, that’s good!” she breathed.  “You really do have magic fingers, you know?  Turn me to gold.”

“Really?”  He bit down into her neck again, and she moaned.  “Well, you feel fucking beautiful, so it’s not exactly a chore.”

He reached lower, slipping a finger inside her and groaning as she gripped him tight.  He pressed against her, his cock hard against the curve of her buttocks, rolling his hips a little to get some relief.  The finger pushed deeper, her flesh hot and wet around him, and his other fingers flickered over her clit.  He pushed another finger in alongside the first, his other hand sliding around her to cup her breast, slipping inside the thin shirt and underneath the cup of her bra.  His fingers found her nipple, hard and taut, and he squeezed it between thumb and forefinger, making her cry out as his fingers thrust inside her.  He swept his tongue up her neck, nipping at her ear with his teeth.

“You feel incredible!” he breathed.  “I want you to come for me, Lacey.  I want to feel it running down my hand.”

She moaned, pushing against him, and he sucked on her neck, sinking his teeth into her, feeling her shiver.

“I want to hear your cries echo around this alley,” he rasped.  “I want to taste your cum on my fingers and know that you’re ready for me.  I want to take you home and get you in my bed and fuck you hard!”

Lacey was moaning, her hips circling as she rubbed against his hand, and he plunged his fingers into her, plucking at her nipple, biting at the back of her neck.  Her breathing was unsteady, shuddering in her lungs, her body stiffening, and she broke with a cry, her legs trembling and shaking, her juices flowing down his fingers.  She gasped for breath, unsteady on her feet, and he gripped her tight as he drew out the fingers, one arm turning her around so that he could press her back against the wall.  Lacey was heavy-eyed and breathless, her cheeks flushed, and he lifted his hand to his mouth, locking eyes with her as he slipped the fingers one by one into his mouth.  The tip of her tongue slipped out, making her lips glisten, and she reached up to push her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to kiss her.

He pressed himself against her with a deep rumble of pleasure, his tongue pushing into her mouth, and Lacey ran her hands up his back, lifting her leg to tug him closer.  He pulled his mouth free to kiss down her neck, sucking on her pulse point, biting her, and she gasped.

“It’s not far, right?” she whispered, and he stepped back, pulling her upright.

“No,” he said.  “Round the corner.”

He grasped her hand, turning and walking up the alleyway, still tasting her on his tongue, his breath pluming out in a thick mist, and Lacey trotted in his wake, her heels ringing on the cold ground.  They skirted a collection of trash cans and a scampering rat and walked out onto the street where his apartment block stood.  Weaver fished in his pocket for his keys, pulling Lacey up the steps with him and unlocking the door.  It slammed shut behind them as he made for the stairs, his breath coming hard in his chest.  God, he wanted her!

His hand was trembling as he turned the keys in the lock, and he slammed the door closed behind them, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a peg by the door.  Lacey was slipping out of her coat, looking good enough to eat in that little uniform she was wearing, the pale mounds of her breasts pushed high, straining against the thin fabric.  She tugged at the peak of the ridiculous hat, winking at him, and sauntered off in the direction of the bedroom, her hips swinging and the cuffs bouncing off her delightful little rear.  He followed her, shrugging out of his gun holster and stowing it on the dresser.

Lacey turned to face him, the streetlights shining through the windows behind her, her hands on her hips and her chin lifted as if in challenge.

“Shirt off,” she said.  “And take off the bloody undershirt this time, no cheating.”

He smirked, and began unbuttoning his shirt, stripping it off and tossing it aside.  She looked him over as he pulled the undershirt over his head, and he nodded at her.

“Now you.”

“We’ll get to me in a minute.”  She let one hip jut outward, her fingers directing his gaze to her groin.  “Now the boots.”

She seemed to want to take charge, and he didn’t have a problem with that, so he bent to unlace his boots and kick them off, tugging off his socks.  When he straightened, she had tossed the cap across the room and let down her hair, running her fingers through it to separate the curls.  He stepped up to her, bending to kiss her as his fingers plucked open the buttons of her shirt, the stretchy fabric springing apart and exposing her pale skin in the black bra.  Lacey pulled her lips from his, eyes flicking open.

“It fastens at the front,” she said.

He found the little hook, undoing it and letting the bra spring open, the curves of her breasts gleaming in the light filtering through the windows.  He pushed the bra and shirt from her, his hands cupping and squeezing, his mouth finding hers, and she ran her fingers up his naked back, moaning into his mouth as he tugged at the belt of her shorts.  She wriggled out of his arms, grinning as she shuffled backwards towards the bed.

“I told you, you first,” she said, and nodded at his pants.

Weaver felt his mouth pull upwards in one corner as his hands dropped to his belt, and Lacey watched, tugging at her lower lip with her teeth.

“You look as though you’re plotting something,” he said, and she grinned, reaching behind herself to unhook the cuffs and holding them up.

“Maybe I am,” she said.  “Do you trust me?”

His twisted smile grew a little.  “Oh, I don’t trust anyone.”

She shot him a flat look.

“Come on!  I’m only playing.”

“Well, I can see that,” he said.  “Those are plastic.  They’ll break at the slightest force.”

“Like I said, I’m only playing,” she said.  “You in?”

He unbuckled his belt, dropping his jeans and underwear and stepping out of them.  Her eyes dropped to his crotch, and she licked her lips again.  God, she was beautiful!

“Okay,” he said.  “Where do you want me, Officer French?”

“On the bed,” she said.  “Hands above your head.”

He raised an amused eyebrow.

“Alright,” he said, walking to the bed.  “But lose the shorts and underwear.  You can leave the shoes and stockings on.”

Lacey put her hands on her hips.  “Who’s in charge here?”

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” he remarked.  “I imagine the answer will be long and exhausting.”

“I think you can handle it.”

“Can you?”

Lacey felt a flutter of arousal go through her at the wicked glint in his eyes, and she licked her lips.

“Just get on the damn bed.”

Weaver chuckled, climbing on and raising his hands above his head, and she dug in the pocket of her shorts for condoms, throwing them onto the bed at his side before slipping off the shorts and panties.  The heels of her shoes caught in the blankets a little as she climbed on.  He was watching her, his eyes dark and intense, and she straddled his waist, threading the cuffs through a bar of the bed frame before snapping them around his wrists.

“You do realise that whatever you do to me, I’m gonna do to you?” he said quietly, and she shivered in anticipation.

“Is that a threat?”

“Oh, that’s a promise, believe me.”

“Then I’ll make the most of it.”

Lacey kissed him, stroking her fingers through his hair, her body undulating against him.  She could feel him hard against her, pressed along her wet folds, and he groaned into her mouth as she moved a little, rubbing against his length, sliding over him as her tongue slipped and stroked.  The cuffs clinked a little on the bed frame as he moved, his hips rising and falling as he sought to feel more of her.  Lacey kissed along the rough new stubble on his jaw, the texture scraping her lips, her tongue flicking at his earlobe before her mouth trailed down his throat to suck at his neck.  She tasted salt on his skin, and a hint of cologne, her tongue swirling as she felt the heavy throb of his pulse.

He was breathing heavily, and she moved lower, kissing over his chest and sucking on a nipple.  Weaver made a hissing noise through his teeth, his back arching a little, and she stroked her tongue across the hardened bud, sucking hard before letting it slip from her mouth and moving across his chest to the other.  She liked his chest, smooth and firm with small, compact muscles.  She liked the smell of him, too, the male, musky scent that was warm and heady in her nose and sharp on her tongue.

She slipped off him to the side, running a hand down his body.  His cock was a rigid line against his belly, and he sucked in a breath as she drew a fingertip up its length, tracing the thick vein up to the head and moving her finger in a circle around it.

“Fuck, Lacey!” he hissed.

She gripped him hard, squeezing and pulling a groan from him, and began to work him in slow strokes, her hand tugging at his flesh.  He groaned again, closing his eyes and letting his head roll back, and she bent her head to suck at his nipple, her hand stroking and pulling, her belly tightening as she remembered how it felt to have him inside her.  He was clenching his jaw, his body tense, his cock stiffening, and she could feel he was close, his groans increasing in pitch and frequency.  She let go immediately, pulling back, and his eyes flew open in shock before narrowing again, his chest heaving with his breath.

“Oh, you have to be fucking _kidding_ me!” he growled, and she giggled.

“What’s the matter?” she asked innocently.  “I thought you detective types had infinite patience.”

“Oh, I have patience alright,” he said, his voice a low rasp.  “Just you wait until it’s your turn, Miss French.  I’m gonna make you fucking scream.”

“That’s no way to speak to a fellow officer.”

He chuckled at that, his eyes gleaming.

“You’re not in uniform.  Besides, I’m pulling rank.”

Lacey shrugged.  “Like you said, I’m not in uniform.”

Wriggling lower, she trailed her tongue down over the flat of his belly, her hand sliding up his inner thigh.  He gasped at the first brush of her fingers, and she traced the shape of his balls, hanging full and heavy, coarse hair covering them and spreading upwards.  He groaned as she gently bent her head to kiss him, her nose nudging him, her hair spooling around him.  She smiled, bending her head to draw her tongue up his length.  He let out a strangled noise, and she grinned again, repeating the motion with her tongue, slow and steady.

“Oh, God, Lacey!”

She wet her tongue, trailing it up and down again, her fingers stroking his balls.  A bead of whitish fluid had leaked from the end of his cock to drip on his belly, a single, shining thread connecting it.  She swept her tongue over the head of his cock, licking up the fluid and tasting salt, and he gasped, arching his back again.  Lacey took him in hand, lowering her mouth to him, and he groaned as she let him inside, slowly taking him deep, feeling the hard length of him against teeth and tongue.

 _“Fuck!”_ he gasped, his hips pushing upwards, and she felt him hit the soft tissue at the back of her throat, her flesh closing up around him.

Lacey began to suck, her cheeks hollowing around him, her lips sliding as her head moved up and down.  Her hand was gripping his cock, adding to the pressure, and he groaned and writhed as she pulled at him, salty droplets seeping from him and spreading across her tongue.  She raised her eyes to look at him, and he was watching her intently, almost panting, his arms stretched above his head, bound by the cheap cuffs.  She let him slide almost all the way out, her lips wet with saliva, before plunging back down onto him and making him growl.

“That’s fucking amazing!” he whispered.  “I’m almost there, I’m—”

She let him slip from her mouth immediately, pushing up on her hands, and his eyes widened in outrage, his chest heaving.

“Are you trying to fucking kill me, woman?”

Lacey giggled, kissing her way up his chest until she was straddling him, sinking down onto him with her wet core pressed against him.  His eyes were dark with lust, flashing dangerously, and it made her belly tighten with need.

“When I get out of these cuffs…” he said quietly, and she grinned.

“Yeah, I know, I’ll be sorry,” she said.  “Sing me a new one.”

She bent her head to kiss him, and he opened his mouth for her, his tongue stroking against hers before his head dropped back on the pillows.

“Get up here and sit on my face, Lacey.” he hissed.  “I want to taste how sweet you are.”

She crawled up his body, hands and knees either side of him, wriggling until her legs straddled his head, her hands clinging to the bed frame.  His stubble scratched the delicate skin of her inner thighs through the stockings, and she moaned as his tongue swept over her, a low groan coming from him as he tasted her.

“Fuck, you’re delicious!” he breathed, and licked her again.

Lacey rocked against him, moaning as jolts of sensation went through her, her hands sliding up his arms to thread her fingers through his.  She threw her head back with a gasp as he circled her clit, and Weaver stroked with his tongue, hot and wet against her tender flesh.  She could feel herself building to orgasm, her cheeks flushing, sweat beading on her upper lip, and she quickened her pace, rubbing herself against his tongue and the rough texture of his chin.  A voice in the back of her mind was whispering that he would stop, that he would try to deny her pleasure as she had denied him, but he kept licking, his tongue stroking and swirling, and she let out a low whimper that became a loud cry of ecstasy as she came.

Weaver felt her tremble around him, her fingers tightening in his, and her juices trickled onto his tongue as her body jerked.  He swept his tongue over her, inhaling her scent, tasting her bliss, and she unlaced her fingers from his, pushing herself up a little to slither back down his body.  She braced herself with her hands on the bedclothes, her head drooping as she tried to catch her breath, and he flexed his wrists in the cuffs, opening and closing his fingers.  The need to be inside her was almost painful.  She raised her head, shaking her hair out of her face, her cheeks flushed and her lips shining.

“I - I didn’t think you’d see it through,” she said, and he grinned at her.

“Oh, it’s not your turn yet,” he said softly.  “When it is…”

He left the threat hanging, and she bit her lip in amusement, her eyes sparkling.

“Well, let’s see if I can return the favour,” she said, and reached to the side for one of the condoms.

He watched as she shifted lower, tearing open the packet and rolling the condom onto him, and he gritted his teeth a little at her touch.  Lacey braced herself on his belly, lifting up and sinking down onto him, snug and scalding.  He groaned and let his head roll back, arching upwards, and she began to move, rocking gently against him, the lace of her stockings rubbing against his sides.  The feel of her was incredible, and he wanted to touch her, but he held off, clutching at the bed frame, his muscles tensing, sensations burning through him.  Lacey quickened her pace, her flesh tugging at him, small breasts bouncing, her breath coming hard in her lungs, and he knew he was close, knew she would take him over the edge.  

He broke the plastic chain of the cuffs with a quick, violent tug, sitting up, one arm going around her waist and pulling her against him, and Lacey pushed her fingers through his hair as he slammed his mouth on hers, his tongue stabbing into her.  He tightened his grip on her and rolled, pushing her onto her back, and she bounced a little on the bedclothes, their teeth clicking together, their lips wet and slippery.  Lacey moaned into his mouth, her knees sliding up his body as he sank deeper into her, and the heels of her little boots scraped his skin, an arousing, exquisite pain.  He broke the kiss with a gasp.

“Fuck, you feel amazing!” he breathed, and pressed his brow to hers as he thrust, slamming into her.

Lacey was gazing up at him with half-closed eyes, panting for breath, perspiration shining on her cheeks, her dark hair spread out on the pillows, and he felt that odd shift in his mind again, that sense of remembrance, of _knowing_.  A rush of pleasure made his mind go blank and his vision blind, and he let out a long, groaning cry as he came inside her, shivering with the intensity of it, his hips pumping as he poured himself into her.  Lacey clutched at his shoulders with her nails, tiny points of pain that made him shudder.  His hands sank into her hair, twisting it around his fingers, his face dropping to her neck to pull the scent of her into his lungs, and his movements slowed and stopped, their bodies slick with sweat and their lungs heaving.

For a long moment there was no sound other than their heavy breathing.  Lacey’s eyes fluttered open, her body tingling from his touch, her fingers running over the raised lines she had raked on his shoulders.  He was a pleasant, comforting weight on top of her, the plastic cuffs around his wrists catching on her hair a little, and she tried to catch her breath.  He pushed himself up on his elbows, gazing down at her with heavy-lidded eyes and a tiny smile, and she felt something flicker at the back of her mind, a brief sense of certainty.  As if this was fated.  As if it was meant to be.

“You alright?” he asked, and his voice was low and throaty, vibrating through her body and making her shiver.  She nodded.

“That was incredible,” she said, and he nodded, reaching between them to grasp the condom and pull out of her.

She lay there as he went to the bathroom, listening with half an ear to the sound of running water, breathing in the scent of him on the pillows and on her hands, her skin covered in him.  Perspiration was drying on her skin, making her shiver, and she wanted to slip beneath the covers.  He walked back into the room, the light from the street outside painting his body with planes and curves of pale blue and midnight shadows.  The remains of the plastic cuffs had gone from his wrists, and she could smell fresh, herbal soap.  He leaned on the end of the bed, arms wide, his eyes twin points of dark fire, and his mouth quirked a little as he looked her over.

“Well now,” he said, and bent down.  There was a rustle of clothing and a clink of metal, and when he straightened up he was holding his own cuffs, rings of silver steel in the wan light.

“Do you trust me, Lacey?”


End file.
